Disclaimer: See first chapter!
Author's Note: I'm back! And I passed my exam and I'm happy. And a big thank you to Wynia, who told me how to get around the error message: You just need to replace the word "property" with "content" in the URL when the error message appears on your screen. Maybe that will help you as well...
Warnings for this chapter: lemon, some dirty talking before that.
37. HAPPINESS
When Harry had relieved himself, too much juice, he washed his hands and stared at his reflection in the mirror that magically enlarged to ceiling-high. He recognised himself, barely, because he was still too thin, his eyes too large, too haunted, his cheekbones too sharp, his hair too wild, his skin too pale. He remembered all that, but the impressive swell of his stomach surprised him. Was he really that fat? He turned to the side for closer inspection, but then quickly reversed his movement because standing with his side to the mirror, made him look like even more of a whale.
He scowled, then scowled a little harder when he realised that he didn't look happy. Tired, drawn, tense, yes, but not happy. Even though he was, he was pretty sure of that. He had his godfathers and a place to belong, people he cared about and who cared about him in return. What was wrong with him? He even would have a family of his own, blood family, family that no one would be able to take away from him because it was real and substantial, not the feeble replacements he had found with the Weasleys or Remus. He should be over the moon, and he was, wasn't he? Yes, dammit, he was!
He defiantly spun around and left the bathroom. It must have been the light in the bathroom, too bright, too harsh, casting shadows where no shadows had ever been and tinting his skin with deathly pallor as if to spite reality. Harry was quite happy with that explanation. Besides, he wasn't vain so why should he care what he looked like? He would just keep away from mirrors and be happy to believe Fen's compliments.
He smiled when he thought of the big man and the part of him that had still been miffed about the mirror incident crowed at that smile as if saying, "See, I'm happy. I told you so." There was really no doubt that Fenrir made him happy, exceedingly so and with an ease that told Harry that his care and love was genuine and real. Harry needed that knowledge more than anything. He needed to know that Fenrir was genuine, not pretending, not faking anything, that he had no ulterior motives, except perhaps, to get into Harry's pants. But it wasn't like Fenrir made a secret of that fact, either, Harry thought with a wry little snort that seemed strangely loud in the empty corridor.
But Harry relished in the silence, after the hustle and bustle in the Atrium, after being dragged here and shown off there. Let them amuse themselves without him. Harry was going to enjoy the quietude of the empty corridors, walk around the new ministry, maybe go outside for a bit. Fresh air sounded heavenly.
But then, with a sigh, he realised that he would have to somehow get through the Atrium if he wanted to use the portal and there was no chance of him going unseen. The corridor would just have to do and maybe he could find a window, artificial or not.
Suddenly a large hand covered his mouth and part of his nose and a heavy arm wrapped around his middle, pulling him against a hard chest, forcing him to walk backwards. He struggled, twisting, turning, biting the hand in front of his mouth until he felt the tangy taste of blood in his mouth, raging his magic against the unknown attacker. The hold on him didn't loosen or tighten in the slightest, nor did the man miss a step or make a sound of pain. Instead he chuckled, and Harry relaxed, his panic releasing in one harsh, broken sob.
"Shh, my little wild thing, it's me," Fenrir murmured in his ear, sounding far too amused for Harry's frayed nerves, and pulled Harry into one of the side rooms that was used as a wardrobe.
Finally, the hand slipped away from his face, and Harry gulped in a deep breath before he tried to turn around to take Fenrir to task about this little stunt. But the werewolf wouldn't allow it, and Harry had no choice but to talk into the dark.
"Fen, dammit, do you want to scare me to death?" he hissed, knowing that Fenrir found his anger amusing without having to see his face. "Don't do that ever again!"
One of Fenrir's hands rested heavily between his shoulder blades, gently but persistently guiding him more into the room until Harry stood in front of a waist-high cupboard.
"What - ?"
"I want to fuck you," Fenrir stated simply with a deep growl in his voice that sent a pleasant, if still a bit indignant shiver down Harry's spine.
"And you think just because the fancy strikes you, I'll bend over?" he still asked.
"Yes," Fenrir replied with a satisfied smirk, his hand growing heavier on Harry's back. "Brace yourself, little wizard.
"Will you at least consider that I'm still pregnant?" Harry demanded. "You'll squish my stomach if you fuck me against the cupboard."
"Let that be my worry. I won't repeat myself, sweet one. Do as I say," Fenrir insisted, but still walked over to the rack of fine cloaks, quickly shifting through them and sniffing them occasionally. "That's the cloak of your new friend, too much perfume," he stated disapprovingly, discarding the wine-red winter cloak and reaching for another one.
"She's not a friend," Harry protested. "She just started to talk to me and then wouldn't shut up... I didn't notice the perfume."
"Because you kept away from her, good," Fenrir replied, and Harry wasn't sure if the 'good' referred to Harry's actions or the soft velvet cloak he had found and now placed under Harry's stomach, carefully folded and bundled to protect his baby bump.
But it seemed that this simple act had completely depleted Fenrir's stock of consideration, and his large hand once again unrelentingly pressed down on Harry's back until Harry had no choice but to brace himself against the cupboard with his arms if he didn't want to squish his face against the polished wood.
"Fen..."
The werewolf made a non-committal sound that could have been just as well a prompt for Harry to continue as a warning to shut up and go along with this. Meanwhile, Fenrir was already unbuckling Harry's belt, unzipping his pants and pushing them down over his slim hips so that they pooled around his feet.
"What if I don't want to?" Harry demanded, shifting a little before Fenrir's hips snapped against his bare buttocks, confining his movement.
"I think you do," Fenrir replied, his hand briefly slipping to Harry's groin and ghosting teasingly over his growing arousal. "If not, tell me to stop."
Harry grumbled in displeasure, and Fenrir chuckled, leaning over Harry's back to nibble on his earlobe while Harry heard him fumbling with his dress pants until they too whispered to the floor. Harry bit his bottom lip to contain the embarrassing whimper that wanted to escape him when Fenrir's heavy erection pressed between his arse cheeks, leaving a wet smear of precome on his skin.
Fenrir's voice was a low growl in his ear, soothing and reassuring and oh-so-arousing. "I want to fuck you, little sweet wizard. I need to."
"Yeah," Harry croaked, pressing his ass back wantonly. "Please."
- BEGINNING OF LEMON -
The chuckle vibrated through his whole being, distracting him enough that the slick finger that slowly but unhaltingly pressed into him came as a surprise. He hissed, arched his back, whimpered; Fenrir pressed on, twisted his finger sharply, drawing a pained moan from the younger man that turned soon after into a moan of pleasure when the finger apologetically massaged his insides, widening him methodically and nudging his prostate with unerring precision.
"That's it," Fenrir praised, pushing another finger into the younger man. "You'll relax for me, won't you?"
"Fuck, Fen, don't -" Harry was interrupted by a high-pitched scream that to his utmost humiliation issued from his own throat.
"I thought so." Fenrir smirked, squeezing a third finger in besides the first two while his free hand alternated between stroking the insides of Harry's thighs, his hips and his stomach.
Harry lifted his foot, intent on kicking back against Fenrir's shin to finally wipe the smugness from his voice, but all that resulted in was him losing his balance and sharp pain to flare up his spine when Fenrir's fingers were forced into him at an odd angle. Fenrir's left hand fastened on Harry's hip immediately to still and stabilise him, and he grumbled soothingly in Harry's ear. Harry cursed under his breath, his bruised pride much more painful than the hurt in his backside.
Fenrir pressed his lips to the soft patch of skin behind Harry's ear before flicking out his tongue as his fingers slipped out of the black-haired man, who moaned in protest. The werewolf was holding his hips with both hands now, leaving Harry no chance to pull away when he shoved into the slender wizard in one smooth trust. This made stars dance in front of Harry's vision, leaving him without breath or even the desire to ever breathe again. Fenrir howled in pleasure, his muscular body moulding itself against Harry's thin back like an attacking tiger, the heavy, warm, dangerous weight of a predator. With sharp teeth. Harry jerked when Fenrir's questing mouth wandered a bit too low for his tastes, and he closed his eyes against the feeling of having failed Fenrir once again.
Of course, Fenrir wouldn't bite him. Of course, he wouldn't. Would he?
Fenrir's lips had returned to behind his ear, gently suckling and sliding over the sensitive skin, as if he had intended to do that all along. As if he wasn't disappointed. But Harry knew that he was and he squeezed his muscles around Fenrir's erection, pushing back against the werewolf encouragingly, hoping that Fenrir would accept his way of apologising.
His answer was a deep growl, calloused fingers digging into his hips and Fenrir hammering in and out of him like he wanted to beat something inside of Harry into submission. From the keening noises Harry couldn't stop, Fenrir was having success and soon the large man buried his head between Harry's sharp shoulder blades, howling out his orgasm. His full weight crashed onto Harry's back, and he only then realised how much restraint Fenrir had put into his movements in spite of his aroused state to avoid crushing Harry or pushing him into the cupboard. Harry's arms threatened to give out under him after only a split second, and he made a distressed sound.
Fenrir reacted immediately, straightening up and catching Harry around the waist before he could come in contact with the cupboard or the floor. Fluidly he scooped Harry up, bedding him on top of the cupboard with his legs dangling over one side. He felt much too vulnerable in this position and wanted to at least draw his legs up and together, but Fenrir stopped him, resting his hands on Harry's thighs.
"It's good like this," he declared, and Harry stared incredulously at him. "I'm not finished with you yet."
Harry sighed, closing his eyes in resignation. He wouldn't deny that he liked this because considering his proud erection that was rather pointless, but it would have been nice if Fenrir had allowed him a little more input or given him an at least marginally more active role. He felt himself being pulled closer to the side of the cupboard so that his hips just rested on the edge and Harry's hands scrambled for purchase so that he wouldn't slip completely, finally fisting in the cloak.
He expected Fenrir to push into him once more. What he didn't expect was a hot mouth closing around his cock and sucking with ardour, rough hands playing with his testicles and a large thumb pressing into the stripe of skin behind them before wandering further back, finding his stretched entrance and dipping in.
Harry moaned, trashing his head from side to side as he tried in vain to press closer and move from his unfavourable position. A chuckle vibrated in Fenrir's mouth, sending too pleasant shivers through Harry's body and what should have been the werewolf's name turned into an incoherent noise of supplication.
Fenrir complied, nonetheless, lifting Harry's legs onto his shoulders and then nipping and licking his way down to his thumb. Harry shuddered and trembled, his eyes squeezed shut against the overload of sensations when Fenrir started to suckle there, skirting his tongue over the puckered skin and lapping at his own semen that slowly trickled out of Harry. The green-eyed man moaned enthusiastically, locking his calves behind Fenrir's neck to draw him in closer, to get more of that, whatever it was.
The werewolf's broad nose nudged Harry's testicles as he latched his mouth onto the pink entrance, sucking forcefully and even darting his tongue into Harry's hot warmth. Harry whimpered, biting his bottom lip and then released with a sob of Fenrir's name. The silver-haired man hummed reassuringly, mouthing his way back up to clean up the mess Harry had left on his stomach.
When Fenrir had finished to his satisfaction he got up from his knees, leaning over Harry to breathe a soft kiss over those swollen lips.
- END OF LEMON
"I love you, Harry."
And just like that, Harry's embarrassment, his humiliation and his resentment at being bent and manhandled and pushed drained from him to be replaced by a foolishly fuzzy feeling of sated contentment.
"You too," he mumbled, pulling Fenrir's head down for a deeper kiss and caressing Fenrir's strong jaw with the tips of his fingers. "But - "
"Nothing but," Fenrir stopped him. "Don't fault me for your enjoyment, moonlight. You don't always have to fight me, sweet wolf, sometimes, if only sometimes, you can be a bit more docile. It would make me happy, and you like making me happy, don't you?"
"I have other ways to make you happy," Harry quipped drowsily.
Fenrir chuckled good-naturedly. "That you have, my little wild thing, that you have." He kissed Harry's nose before straightening up.
"Where are you going?" Harry demanded, sitting up with some difficulty and blinking in the darkness to make out Fenrir's tall form.
"Shh, I'm just changing positions," Fenrir soothed him, sitting down on the cupboard, which creaked under his weight, and pulled Harry's head into his lap. "I know you're tired. Rest."
He started to massage Harry's scalp with slow, firm strokes, grinning to himself when Harry all but purred at the contact, arching his body to push his head more into his hand. After a while, Harry turned to his side, folding his legs loosely against his body, and even though Harry seemed ignorant of how his shirt had ridden up to reveal his smooth little butt, Fenrir certainly wasn't. Slowly his fingers trailed from the hair that was just as rebellious as Harry's character, skipping over throat and neck, down to Harry's slender shoulders, always defiantly squared and still not all that impressive compared with Fenrir's massive bulk, over the flat chest and swelling stomach that held a new life, a little miracle just like Harry, to the sharp hips that had swayed so tantalisingly all evening and then finally cupped the sweet ass.
Harry mumbled something, maybe it was only a loud sigh or a shaky moan, Fenrir couldn't tell for sure, but he thought it endearing that Harry's spit-fire eloquence was all but gone after their activities. It made Harry seem all that more vulnerable, touchable, real and his. He gave the firm little butt a experimental swat to see if he could startle a reaction out of Harry, but he only received an unwilling grumble.
With a chuckle, he started to rub Harry's butt soothingly before he eventually slipped his hand between Harry's thighs, not to initiate any more action, but just to enjoy the intimacy and stake his claim.
"'s not how I planned this evening." Harry shifted his head a little so that his breath ghosted over Fenrir's manhood that was already stiffening in interest.
"No?" Fenrir smirked. "Funny, I planned to taste that tight ass of yours all evening."
Harry snorted. "But of course. That's why you brought lube with you."
"Got it in one," Fenrir replied easily. "You don't honestly think I came here for the food, do you?"
"You can fuck me any time you want to at home," Harry muttered. "I told you that you didn't need to come."
"I know." Fenrir leaned down to kiss Harry's brow. "But I wanted to fuck you here so that I can make love to you at home. I have to offer you a bit of variety, don't I?"
A lazy grin spread over Harry's face, and he blinked one eye open at him. "That you do, wolfie. You have to keep me entertained."
"Or what?" Fenrir asked suspiciously; Harry's grin broadened and he hummed enigmatically, but didn't answer, and Fenrir growled. "Tell me."
"Make me." Harry laughed, with a coy little flutter of his eyelashes, squeaking when the werewolf pinched his bottom.
"I want an answer, now," Fenrir growled, but his hand soothingly caressed the sore spot he had just pinched and then slid back between Harry's thighs, his thumb pressing against Harry's entrance.
"Nothing. Was just teasing," Harry whispered, digging his fingers into Fenrir's thigh, but other than that, kept absolutely still. "I wouldn't cheat on you, Fen."
"I know." The silver-haired man grinned smugly, rubbing over the velvety folds of skin. "And I wouldn't use this to punish you, my little beautiful human. I know you enjoy this too much."
Harry grumbled, but gradually relaxed his fingers again. "As if you don't."
"But there's no problem with me enjoying punishing you, is there?" Fenrir asked rhetorically, his free hand running over Harry's cheek, the caress more intimate than it had any right to be, and the younger man sighed.
"As long as you don't enjoy it too much," Harry murmured with that amused glint in his eyes as if to tell Fenrir that he was a lost cause anyway and that he had seen right through him. "Or I will have to punish you."
Fenrir chuckled before leaning down to breathe in Harry's ear, "You're welcome, any time you feel like it, my little strict one."
Harry rolled his eyes, but then allowed a laugh to slip, patting Fenrir's strong thigh. "Don't tempt me, wolfie."
"Payback is a bitch," Fenrir commented, idly stroking Harry's exposed skin, tracing a white scar that escaped the spiderweb on his back and brushed the top of one creamy buttock.
"Higher," Harry ordered, pushing back against Fenrir's hand.
"What?"
"My back hurts. You could give me a massage, now." Harry once again pushed against Fenrir's hand, groaning happily as the werewolf started rubbing slow half moons on the small of Harry's back, alternating the force until he found the right pressure.
Harry sighed blissfully, nuzzling his cheek against Fenrir's thigh, and enjoyed that Fenrir was so focussed on making him feel better without giving Harry the impression that he a fragile flower or only important because of the child he was carrying. He didn't even notice when he slipped off to sleep.
But Fenrir noticed, gentling his strokes and tugged the cloak over Harry's legs when he noticed goose bumps appear on the smooth skin. He didn't mind watching Harry sleeping since he knew how tired Harry had to be and was silently glad that Harry was finally listening to his body that was clamouring for rest so loud that even a deaf person would have been able to hear it.
He leaned back against the wall, drawing one knee loosely up onto the cupboard to cradle his slender lover. With half an ear, he listened for steps in the corridor, but everything was quiet and his one and a half ears were free to listen to Harry's quiet breathing. The row of Harry's pale fingers rested lightly on his bare thigh, clenching sporadically as he dreamt, and Fenrir had to resist the urge to lift them to his lips to kiss every single fingertip.
Instead, he slowly moved his hand to rest on Harry's baby bump, careful not to startle the young Animagus. Harry shifted a little, his breath hitching for a moment before it evened out again.
Fenrir allowed his little moonlight to sleep for half an hour before Harry woke on his own. "Huh?" He yawned, stretching and blinking sleepily up at the werewolf. "'d I miss something?"
"No, nothing important," Fenrir soothed him, putting his index finger against Harry's temple where he could feel the soft fluttering of his pulse. "You needed a bit of rest."
Harry didn't protest, which Fenrir took as a good sign. Instead the younger man turned his head a fraction and sank his teeth into the inside of Fenrir's thigh, not quite breaking through the skin. The werewolf groaned then growled, fisting his hand into Harry's hair though he could not quite decide if he should tug Harry away or push him down harder. The younger man laughed, gently lapped at the bite mark, soothing the irritated skin and sending pleasant tingles through Fenrir's entire body.
"Little madcap," Fenrir grumbled, and Harry snorted, grinning up at him, completely unrepentant but more than a little challenging.
Fenrir growled good-naturedly. "Aiming for another fight, silly little thing? Haven't you learned your lesson, yet?"
"I think I'll never learn." Harry exposed his throat as if by accident, sweet submission for Fenrir to take, and then tilted his chin defiantly. "And what's more, I think I never want to learn."
"I think I never want to stop teaching you lessons," Fenrir replied with a broad grin of his own, and Harry rolled his bright green eyes before closing them again.
"I have one or two lessons to teach you as well, wolfie. And I'll make sure that you will learn," he murmured.
"Go right ahead," Fenrir offered easily, caressing his fingers over Harry's cheek.
"Don't sneak up on me," Harry replied immediately.
"You can't smell me, I hadn't thought about that," the werewolf agreed, and though it wasn't an apology, nor an admission of guilt, it was good enough for Harry. "Do you want to rest a bit longer, sweet wolf?"
Harry hummed. "I'm thirsty."
"Do you want me to get you something?" Fenrir suggested, tracing his thumb over Harry's lips as if to check that they weren't parched. "Juice?"
"Don't move," Harry stopped him. "Not yet. Three more minutes."
Fenrir settled down again, and they fell into a companionable silence. But when the werewolf noticed that Harry was drifting off again, he carefully cradled Harry's head, keeping it steady as he hopped from the cupboard and then bedding it back on the coat.
"I'll be right back, little one, okay?" He brushed a brief kiss over Harry's lips before he straightened up.
Harry hummed, twisted around and blindly fumbled for his trousers. Fenrir, who realised what Harry wanted to do, gently tugged them up Harry's slender legs, closed the zipper and buttoned up. Now that Harry's tight little butt was covered again, he rubbed briefly over Harry's extended middle and finally slipped out of the room, firmly closing the door behind him.
I have a great idea how you could make me even happier. It involves pressing the little link at the bottom of this page...